


Here

by HowAboutThatSnapback



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (mild) language, Blood, Violence, drugs (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:54:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7533535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowAboutThatSnapback/pseuds/HowAboutThatSnapback
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on Alessia Cara's "Here."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here

“I guess right now you’ve got the last laugh,” Stan says with a humorous laugh as blood spills from between his lips to the ground below him.

He spits out the blood onto the ground near Samuel’s feet and then a kick is delivered to his dislocated shoulder and Stan lets out a cry of pain as he falls back to the ground.

_How did I get here?_  Stan wonders as he looks up at the light at the ceiling with his entire body beaten and bloody.

* * *

## 24 Hours Earlier

* * *

“I’m sorry if I seem uninterested or I’m not listenin’ or I’m indifferent,” Stan says as he backs out of the bar from two large men stepping forward threateningly, “Truly, I ain’t got no business here, but since my friends are here I just came to kick it.”

_But really I would rather be at home all by myself, not in this room with people who don’t even care about my well-being,_  he mentally adds.

“He’s with me,” a man says.

He’s taller than Stanley, but a bit slender and has messy chestnut colored hair and hazel eyes. He’s wearing a suit- a red one.

Stan grins at the sight of the man and nods. “Yeah, I’m with him.”

The bouncers share a look and step aside to let Stan inside.

Stan grins and walks up to the man. “Thanks, Clark.”

“No problem, Stan,” the man says and walks inside with him. “Try to not do too much while you’re here.”

“No promises,” he says to his acquaintance- or rather, the man keeping an eye on him to make sure he does his job- as he eyes all the beautiful woman there. _Maybe it won’t be so bad in here like I thought it would be._

Unfortunately all he heard was, “I don’t dance,” “don’t ask,” and “I don’t need a boyfriend” even when he wasn’t even asking that. One girl even said, “you can go back, please enjoy your party” to him trying to let him down easy (which he was kinda grateful of.

He sat in the corner under clouds of marijuana with this boy who’s hollering to try and be heard by this girl he’s flirting with. He can hardly hear over this music he doesn’t listen to.

“I don’t wanna get with you,” a redheaded woman says while walking away from him.

He groans in frustration and turns to one of the people Clark had at the club. “Tell ‘em that I’ll be over here.”

_What am I doing here?_  He thinks to himself. If it weren’t for the fact he were getting paid for his services, he’d be at home tonight.

“What do you think of my party?” A man with curly black hair, olive skin, and dark eyes asks. He stands a few inches shorter than Stan and isn’t that built, but Stan knows better than to underestimate someone.

“Excuse me if I seem a little unimpressed with this,” Stan says apologetically. “I”m an… an anti-social pessimist and usually I don’t mess with this.”

“Would you like a drink?”

He wants one so bad, but he has to stay sober for this. “I know you mean only the best and your intentions aren’t t’ bother me…”

“But,” the man urges.

“I don’t really drink,” Stan lies. “Honestly I’d rather be somewhere with my people we can kick it and just listen to some music with the message- like we usually do… and we’ll discuss our big dreams, how we plan t’ take over tha planet… sorry, I’m rambling again.”

“No, I’m intrigued. You’re an interesting young man.”

“Thanks…”

“William.”

“Well, pardon my manners, I hope you’ll understand that I’ll be here,” Stan says while gesturing to the other side of the room.

His nose wrinkles in distaste when he sees a girl in the kitchen- why do they have a kitchen?- probably gossiping about her friends and makes his way to another part of the club. He ends up right next to the boy who’s throwing up because he can’t take what’s in his cup anymore and he jumps away.

_Oh, God, why am I here?_

Working a job, that’s what. Gotta get close to the head honcho- whoever that may be since he wasn’t told a name- here to get information.

Hours later he finds himself congregating next to the refrigerator, some girl’s talking about her haters. Looking at her he can tell she probably has none.

Finally- after working the room all night- he finds himself standing in front of the head honcho… unfortunately it’s someone he’s taken great care to avoid over the last few years… Samuel Sanchez. He’s tall and thin with a black suit with a red undershirt and a black tie and shoes. His hair’s cut short and dirty blond, his eyes are light brown- almost an amber shade- and his teeth are a bit crooked, but white as they hold the cigar in his mouth until his long, thin fingers pluck it from between them. He’s flanked by two large men- hired muscle he’s sure. He’s making sure that he doesn’t have to get his hands dirty should someone need to be taken care of.

_How did it ever come to this? I shoulda never come to this,_  Stan thinks while immediately setting to thinking of a way to talk himself out of this.

“Why’re you here, Stan?” Samuel demands. “I thought I told ya t’ stay away from me?”

“Well, I didn’t know you were here, otherwise I woulda left,” Stan says.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” Stan nods.

He hears the click of a hammer being pushed down on a gun. Suddenly he wishes he hadn’t taken this job.

“I thought you knew better than t’ come snoopin’ ‘round,” Samuel says and then snaps his fingers.

Immediately the men flanking him step forward quickly and grab him by the arms despite him backing away as quickly as he can.

“Hey, hey, I was just hangin’ here, just let me go and I won’t bother ya,” Stan says begs.

Samuel takes a long drag of his cigar and observes him for several seconds before he says, “Alright… let ‘im go.”

Stan doesn’t relax, but he feels much better after the massive men let him go and he straightens himself out as he backs away. “Thanks. I’ll leave now.”

“Next time I won’t be so lenient on you,” Samuel says.

“Understood,” Stan nods and makes his way toward the door, weaving his way through the throng of bodies.

“What’re you doing?” Clark demands as he grabs Stan’s arm.

“You didn’t tell me I was trynna get some info from _Samuel Sanchez_ ,” Stan growled quietly.

“Of course not, otherwise you wouldn’t’ve taken the job,” Clark retorts.

Stan yanks his arm from Clark’s grasp. “Holla at me when ya need a ride home, I’ll be in the car when you’re done.”

“Look-”

“I’m standoffish, don’t want what you’re offering, and I’m done talking,” Stan says firmly. “Y’know what, never mind… find your own ride home.”

And Stanley rushes out of the club toward his car to escape what could’ve been a disaster.

As he gets in his car he laughs. _Can’t believe I actually got Sam t’ think I actually didn’t mean t’ be there._

Before he even gets the chance to start his car, the door’s opened and he’s yanked out of the car with a bag thrown over his head. Stan kicks abad shouts, trying his best to escape. Soon his hands and legs are bound and a large hand covers his face so he can’t breathe.

_Shit…_

* * *

Who knows how long it takes for Stan to wake up, but when he does wake up, he finds himself bound to a chair with Samuel in front of him with his goons flanking him.

“I’m awfully sad it had to be this way,” Samuel says to Stan with mock regret.

Stan wants to deck him, but he can’t do that. He just has to try and get his hands free in the most subtle way.

“I was leavin’, Sam,” Stan insists. “Why’re ya doin’ this?”

“You think I didn’t have someone watchin’ ya?” Samuel asks, laughing at the shocked expression on Stan’s face. “You were talkin’ t’ one’ah Freddie’s cronies. Y’came here t’ spy on me.”  
  
“I didn’t know it was you,” Stan insists. “If I knew, I wouldn’t’ve taken the job.”

Samuel tuts at him while shaking his head. “That’s not good enough… boys, teach ‘im a lesson.”

The men surge forward and Stan grits his teeth as the first blow hits in his abdomen and keeps them clenched even when he’s punched hard in the jaw. At some point his chair’s shoved back so it breaks under him painfully, splintered soon digging into his back and legs. The back of his head hits the ground and his vision swims.

He sees white for a moment as his arm’s yanked out of it’s socket and he gives a strangled cry.

_Fuck!_

He gets a kick to the jaw and he ends up biting his cheek and his mouth fills with blood and it leaks out. He spits some out to try and keep from breathing it in and swallowing it.

He tries sitting up, but the blow to his dislocated shoulder sends him back to the ground.

“Tell my people when they’re ready that I’m ready,” Samuel tells some guy near the door.

Stan stares up at the light and tries to gather some coherent thought.

“Cut the ropes,” Samuel orders. Once they’re gone, Samuel chuckles at seeing the rope burn. “Tried t’ escape early- eh? Sorry that didn’t work for ya… let this be a lesson- alright?”

Stan nods weakly. “Lesson learned…”

“Ready t’ go, boss?”

“Yeah… goodbye, Stan. I hope this is the last time we’ll ever have to meet.”

Stan hopes so too. After he’s sure they’re all gone, he pushes himself up and ends up standing by the TV with his beanie being lowered to his mouth so he can bite into it. He takes a few calming breathes and counts to three before he shoves his shoulder back into place with a strangled, muffled cry.

He takes to the beanie and thinks as he finds the doors locked from the outside, _I can’t wait till I can break up outta here._

He breaks a window and hops out in an alley and winds up limping a few blocks before he finds his car- a sight for sore eyes. He puts the trash bags over his seat and gets inside.

_Coulda been worse,_  he thinks as he drives away, beaten and bloody, but _alive._


End file.
